Things We Lost
by dibscracqueen
Summary: The story of Fatgirl and Little D and how they came to be.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Behold, my new obsession- DamiSteph. I dunno man, they really fascinate me. So obviously I decided to write something. Chapter 1 will be up soon.

**PROLOGUE**

When Bruce Wayne died, Damian Wayne shed no tears.

And Stephanie Brown, for one, was not shocked.

Instead, Stephanie watched Damian's shell harden further and his eyes close off. As they all stood around the grave under umbrellas, shielding themselves from the sky that mourned the death of the world's greatest detective, Stephanie wondered how long it would take to soften Damian again. It had taken so long the first time.

The whole clan was there, Stephanie observed, to pay their respect in silence. Dick and Barbara were huddled together and Tim stood next to them, his eyes closed. Cass was near Stephanie and next to her was Selina. Even Jason came, standing in the back, and for once no one was flinching away from him or pulling out knives. Everyone was in too much shock, too much grief, too much anger. Whatever Bruce had or hadn't been to everyone, he was still their leader and such an ingrained part of Gotham at this point that it was odd to think of life without him, hard to think of a Gotham without a Batman. Of course, Stephanie suspected that this wouldn't be the case for long. There wouldn't be the Batman, but there would be a Batman.

It's what he had been groomed, what he had been made for, after all.

And in all honesty, Steph was slightly scared for him. She knew what was coming but she was in no way prepared for it.

Because there had been too much left unsaid, too much bitterness and resentment between father and son before Bruce had died. And knowing Damian, he was about to take it all out in ways that his father would have deeply disapproved of.

Stephanie wanted to tell him somehow that he wasn't alone. That even though she wasn't his favourite person in the world and he wasn't exactly hers either, she at least was there for him. Steph couldn't fathom the words though, they wouldn't leave her lips. So instead she stepped closer to him, reached out her hand and lightly grasped his right hand. His fingers didn't move, didn't even twitch, but he didn't push her hand away so Stephanie took that as a sign and let her hand remain on his larger one.

He ended up leaving before any of them. He tugged his hand away gently and without saying one word, walked back to the mansion.

That was the last time in over a year that she saw him.

**A/N: **Please leave all kinds of feedback. Even a great or pls stop would do.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Greetings. I'm sorry this took longer than "shortly" but stuff happened. The average between chapter should be 3-5 days. So I think the next chapter will be up by Sunday, hopefully.

Thank you guys so much for reviews!

Oh and I wanted to point out that I realize the beginning is a wee bit similar to quipquipquip's no dawn, no day and I wanted to inform everybody that my story will not be going the same direction as hers because no story could ever come close to the absolute perfection that is NDND (go read it now). Also, yes, I changed the title of the fic. Why? Just cause. Anywho, enjoy (or you know, don't. it's totally up to you):

**CHAPTER 1**

Superheroing was really fucking exhausting.

Sometimes Steph wondered whether they were all mad, the whole superhero community. They risked their lives on a daily basis and enjoyed it, thrived on defeating psycho villains and on top of it all they had dual identities. Then she'd realize that there was no need to _wonder _about anything, she knew for sure they all belonged in a nuthouse.

But then, there were nights, where she was kicking bad guys in the face one after the other and saving people and feeling the adrenaline course through her body and feeling so alive that Steph knew that this was the sanest choice anyone could ever make.

Tonight was definitely reaffirming the former opinion.

Tonight, she'd stopped a small truck from leaving with a shipment of ecstasy. She'd arrived outside the abandoned warehouse just in time, proud of her detectiving skills, and she'd proceeded to beat the crap out of the assholes. At first she'd been doing well but as the fight wore on, she began tiring. The adrenaline could only last her so long and the henchmen just would not stop coming at her from every direction. Her supply of batarangs were running low and every round house or punch she threw, a little more energy drained out of her. But what was _really_ starting to bug her was that once she got home she couldn't just collapse on the couch and relax, she still had paperwork to sort out for her boss.

'Come now, boys,' Steph huffed as she pulled off a butterfly kick, sending one of Falcone's guys slamming to the ground, face first. 'I'm sure we all have places we need to be, things we need to do, people we need to screw. Your boss won't mind if we settle this later, would he?'

Another punch to her gut. A punch or kick each to theirs. Punch. Hit Kick. Slam. Avoid getting stabbed. Punch. Hit. She was _so _fucking done.

And then: 'Bitch we're going to settle this _now_.'

It was one of the henchmen from behind her, the voice accompanied by a knife to her throat as she was pulled against the large man, her hands held back in a death grip. _God Damnit._

If this had been a year ago, there would have been at least two people patrolling with her, ensuring she wouldn't get in this mess. Hell, even up till six months ago there would have been someone. Since the original mighty bat had died though, she was left by herself a lot of times. Sure, Dick was there but the Justice League often required his assistance and just then, he'd gone off to do the assisting. Tim had moved away, Cass was busy with her own missions in far off lands, Nell had taken a night off for her accumulated homework and Barbara couldn't very well come into the field. And the littlest amongst them had been gone for ages.

So when she felt the cool silver of the blade against her throat, she almost laughed. What a lame way to go; killed by a low life. At least the first time around her death could have been considered tragic. This one would just be pathetic. Story of her life.

As she was preparing to execute a difficult maneuver to escape with minimum damage to her throat, she heard a scream of agony escape the henchman and he let her go. She whirled around but for a minute all she saw was a blur as someone slammed the man down against the ground over and over again. Just as she was sure the man's head was about to crack open, her rescuer stopped and let the henchman fall to the ground limply.

Her savior looked up at her then. Most of his face was hidden by a black cloth tied around the bottom half of his face but his eyes were visible and they met hers, intense and so very blue. Recognition tugged at her but she couldn't for the life of her make the connection. She had no more time to put a name to those eyes though because the rest of Falcone's men were still there, trying to kill them, and one of them had pulled out a very _big gun_.

The man didn't hesitate. He headed straight towards the two men handling the gun as they started shooting. Stephanie supposed she'd let him take them as she moved out of the bullets' general trajectory and started dealing with the rest of the goons. Out of the corners of her eyes, she could see the man had reached the gun wielding idiots and with a few swift and brutal moves, knocked them out. Or at least she hoped he had knocked them out but she with how hard he had hit, she wasn't sure.

In a few more seconds he joined her to finish off the rest of them. She noticed he went straight for the spots it would her them most. It occurred to her that perhaps she should be afraid of him but she wasn't. Not the first time she was working with an outlaw, after all. It wasn't long before they were tying up the men together and Stephanie placed a 911 call.

'Phew,' Stephanie breathed, pushing the last two men together. The small pile of unconscious bodies was impressive. Half of them looked like they'd been beaten half to death. With a scowl on her face, she turned to face her savior. 'Thanks for your help, mystery man. You know, you didn't have to beat the living shit out of them though. If that's how you work, I'd prefer it if you didn't come rescuing this damsel next time.'

The man eyed her, crossing his arms across his chest. Then he pulled down his mask just a little and all the air proceeded to leave Stephanie's lungs.

'Gladly. Perhaps next time you'll really get your throat slit and I won't have to watch you fight in that abominable style of yours anymore.'

For a minute she just stood there, contemplating the person, the almost stranger, before her. Then she socked him as hard as she could on his shoulder.

'Ow, you wench!'

She strode past him, heading towards her bike as police sirens sounded in the distance. He fell beside her easily, keeping up with her, wisely keeping silent.

'Do you know how long you were gone, you prick?'

'One year, one month and twelve days,' he replied coolly.

'That's right,' she said. 'How hard would it have been, tell me, to send a postcard?' She deepened her voice mockingly. '_Hey. I'm alive and in Tahiti to get away from you all because I fucking hate you all. Don't reply. Have a terrible fucking life.' _

Her voice returned to normal as she said, only a little softer, 'Do you know how many of us thought you were dead?'

He didn't reply to that. Instead he got on his own bike and started the engine. For a moment Stephanie thought he was going to leave without saying anything more, and maybe she wouldn't see him for another year. But then he turned back to her. 'Maybe that was the plan.'

Stephanie didn't know how to respond to that, so she said, as she got on her bike, 'I think a shower's in order. You coming?'

Again, there was no response from him, but as she started towards the Manor and he followed, she let a little sigh of relief escape.

xxx

Once they'd reached the batcave, Stephanie started stripping.

That was Alfred's rule: No dirty clothes beyond the cave. She'd started wearing a tank top and tights underneath her suit so that she could leave the suit behind downstairs and head up to shower properly.

Damian frowned. 'Do you have no decency, woman?'

But he started to take off the outer layers of his clothing too. He'd been clad all in black; mask, shirt, jacket and cargos. He shed the mask, dirt covered jacket, protective vest and the utility belt, leaving just a black t-shirt and his pants on.

Stephanie paused in the middle of removing her left leg from her suit. Then, she stared.

Well. He had certainly grown. His shoulders had broadened significantly and though he wasn't as built as his father had been, he was certainly getting there. His muscles were all… defined. And Stephanie wondered if she'd ever properly looked at him before. Surely she hadn't because she'd never noticed that his skin was such a _nice _honey shade. And she'd never even noticed his cheekbones or his jaw or his… Stephanie wanted to slap herself a little bit for staring so long. He'd noticed.

'What, Brown?' he demanded, arms crossed across his chest a little defensively. Even his voice was deeper, more timber to it.

_Jesus, Steph, he's only barely legal. _

'Oh nothing,' she responded, finally pulling off her suit fully and tossing it towards the side. She swept up her hair in a ponytail. 'Just thinking how you haven't changed much. Still as rude and condescending as I remember.'

For just a moment he looked at her oddly. Then he turned towards the computer console and started moving some files around. 'And you're still as asinine.'

'Glad to hear you proving my point. Something's never change. Guess you'll always be socially inept.'

'And I guess the title fatgirl will stick around for a while seeing as how it's still a very fitting one.'

Ok. Rude.

But she had something else to argue about right now. 'What the fuck was up with you back there, Damian? Why were you being so… _violent? _I thought you'd left your psycho baby assassin days behind?'

His expression soured, anger visibly seeping into him. 'I did what was necessary.'

'Bullshit. You did it because you wanted to. There's a reason your father had rules as to how far was too far.'

'Don't bring him into this,' Damian replied, his icy gaze turning on her. 'His rules died with him.'

Stephanie laughed. 'Of course I'm going to bring him into this. Everything you've ever done, maybe everything you ever will do is based on how much you wanted his acceptance or at least his attention. And now that he's dead, you're pissed and you're-'

'Enough,' he growled in a low voice. It sounded eerily like Bruce. '_You_ of all people don't get to tell me how I do things.'

The venom in the way he'd said _you of all people_ stung. As though her opinion was worth the absolute least amongst the scum whose opinions were worthless. She clenched her fists at her side. But of course, the punch she so badly wanted to land him with never did reach him. That would just mean that his comment had affected her and _he_ _of all people _didn't get to decide her worth.

Damian seemed to sense that he'd gone a little far because his furious expression simmered down to a scowl, which was practically smiling, for him. He opened his mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it. Of course.

Stephanie unclenched her fists. 'Whatever, little demon. I'm going up to shower. You gonna stick around tonight?'

He didn't answer, his eyes back on the screen. Stephanie wondered if it was always going to be like this with him; biting, distant and unpredictable. She supposed it wasn't his fault. He'd been bred that way. It made her a little sad though, because they'd cracked him before, almost reached his soft gooey center. But it'd closed up some again. He had returned to his old, jackass, more _violent _self.

She sighed and turned away, heading for the stairs. It was only as she was halfway up, one painful step after another, that she heard him call after her. His voice lacked the bite from earlier.

'For tonight, yes, Fatgirl.'

And for some reason, she was incredibly glad he was back, if even for a little while.

**A/N: **Reviews please?


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey guys. I'm sorry. A week, I said. But it took me like a month. Stuff happened: school, parents, friends, siblings, crying over how no matter how hard I try, this will never be as good as NDND. Ugh life. To make up for it I wrote nearly 5,000 words though so I hope that you can maybe forgive me?

And thank you so much, Courtney, for reviewing. The banter is what draws me to this completely crack ship :p Keep the reviews coming.

I should warn you guys, there's a part in this chapter that alludes to rape, though it's vague. But I'm warning, just in case.

**CHAPTER 2**

The next morning, Stephanie checked up on him, just in case. She went to his old room first, assuming that he had slept there. When she found that empty, she checked the guest rooms and when she found that they were empty too, she checked the cave. The door that permitted entrance to the cave however, was locked. Since the door was a door grill, she could see that he was still sitting in front of the large monitor. Of course he was already here. Had she forgotten exactly whose unholy offspring he was?

She decided to leave him alone. He'd been gone months, he needed to catch up on how messed up Gotham had gotten since his father's (and his) absence. Heading up, she went in the kitchen and seated herself on the counter. Alfred was already there, cooking something, something that was decidedly not waffles. Saturdays were always waffle days. That meant that he was upset.

'Would you care to explain, Miss Stephanie, why I nearly gave myself a heart attack when I thought I saw a young Master Bruce wandering the corridors this morning? Only I realized it couldn't have been Master Bruce because his skin was darker and his perpetual scowl more prominent. So I ask you, is Master Damian back? And if he is, why did you not inform me of this last night?'

Stephanie scrunched her nose. 'Um, yes? And please don't kill me I just didn't want to give you cardiac arrest.'

'I suppose that was wise. I'm glad I had one more night of peaceful rest before I resume my duties under that vexatious boy,' he sighed and placed the omelet he had made onto a plate and handed the plate to Stephanie. 'Would you also care to inform me why he is avoiding me?'

Stephanie took a bite of the cheese filled eggs. _He was avoiding Alfred? How typical._

'Probably doesn't want to deal with _feelings _and guilt and stuff.'

Alfred nodded. 'Probably.'

Stephanie finished the rest of her meal in silence while Alfred fixed her coffee. She was ever so thankful that he existed. Stephanie was not very good at cooking (though she could make mean ready mix waffles), but Alfred had been useful besides his cooking skills. Even though she'd been living at the mansion only a few months and had known Alfred least amongst the bats, he had become a close friend. She felt like she'd known him her whole life. He was the only one who she'd been able to rant her problems at, knowing that he'd listen quietly and dispense advice without a hint of self-righteousness. And he treated her like family, like she, a Brown, belonged there, in the big old mansion with its fancy furniture and high ceilings.

So she was appropriately offended on Alfred's behalf that Damian had not greeted him. After everything Alfred had done for all of them, he deserved at least that much. Grabbing her coffee, she marched down to the cave and this time, she grasped the grill door and shook it so it made an extrememly annoying rattling sound.

'Red cross! We deliver!

He shot up from his seat. 'Stop that you harlot!'

She grinned as he pressed the button to unlock the door. Marching in, she placed the coffee down on a table and proceeded to smack him on his shoulder. The smile was still on her face.

'Will you stop doing that?' he said, rubbing his arm.

'Not unless you go up and face Alfred and all your shame for abandoning everyone.'

Damian glowered. 'I refuse.'

'What are you twelve? You _are_ going up there or it's the end of you.'

'You haven't been trained under master assassin's from around the world since the day you could walk so there is definitely not even a remote possibility that you have a chance of ending me in any way or form.'

'Up. Or it's the end of you.'

Damian grumbled in some foreign language under his breath. Stephanie wondered how many of the words were of an explicit nature. Finally, he muttered something in English, something Stephanie would have missed if she hadn't been this close to him. He said, 'I can't.'

And he actually had this expression on his face, one that resembled guilt, lips pulled tight and eyes downcast. Not very Damian like.

'Of course you can,' Stephanie said, stepping closer so that he had to look up from his shoes and meet her eyes. 'There were-_are_ some of us who care for you, you know. Some of us who'd actually like to show that we care and show that we can forgive. Not all of us are your father.'

She noticed his jaw clench as his eyes flitted away once more and she _knew _she had hit a sensitive spot, but honestly, she didn't care. There was only so long he could be hung up on the older Wayne.

Apparently Damian thought otherwise, because he turned around in a way that suggested he planned on storming off.

Only, Alfred was there, eyebrows raised expectantly and a tray in his hand. Damian remained still and silent as Alfred placed the food laden tray down. He also remained still and silent as Alfred stepped forward and placed his arms around Damian. Stephanie saw his hands twitch, as though he wanted to move them from his sides, but they remained.

Alfred let go and pulled away.

'Welcome home, Master Damian.'

xxx

They went patrolling after that.

They hadn't agreed on the team up, per say, but Stephanie had suited up and so had he and they both ended up in the same car. Stephanie let him drive.

Steph had taken to patrolling alone most of the time. Sometimes she was joined by Dick, or by Tiffany when either had time. Tiffany joined her more than Dick since she had no Justice League to attend to, but Tiffany had her own set of obstructions in the form of University and taking care of her family. And so, Stephanie found herself with a proper partner after months and months. It had to be a self-righteous brat.

'We're not taking the east side,' Stephanie ordered as she recognized the direction he was driving in.

'I read the reports. Most crimes have been occurring in the east side as of the last five months. So yes, we are taking the east side.'

'No,' she pressed. 'We really aren't. That side belongs to the hood.'

The car actually swerved a little, disrupting his usually steady driving. 'Are you telling me that you have handed over a _whole_ portion of Gotham to that imbecile?'

'Yup, D, pretty much,' she said cheerily. 'And the reports you read, they're all his doing.'

He gripped the handle tighter. 'What is Grayson's opinion on this?'

'Oh it was his idea. We have an agreement with the hood. He takes care of things his own way as long as he stays out of our way and we stay out of his. Better a maniac we know and can reason with than chaos reigning over the city.'

'And what makes you think you can reason with Todd?' he asked, eyebrows furrowed as though thoroughly confused.

'We have limited resources, we need him. Can't take on the whole city by ourselves.'

He snorted. 'Wasn't a problem before.'

'And _before_, we had more people. We had eight bats working in Gotham. We're down to three.'

'Doesn't mean you need to start associating with psychopaths.'

'We associate with you, don't we?'

At the unimpressed expression on his face, Stephanie sighed and her mouth twisted into a small, sad smile. 'Look, Damian, you've been gone a long time.'

He had no answer.

They ended up on a rooftop overlooking china town, listening out for radio calls. So far the worst call in they'd gotten was indecent exposure and Stephanie refused to take up that one. She could sense Damian getting twitchy.

'Be patient, my young padawan,' she said, patting his arm. 'Your time will come.'

Damian raised an eyebrow. 'Padawan?'

Stephanie gasped. 'Please for the love of god, don't tell me you haven't watched Star Wars?'

He folded his arms. 'Alright, I won't.'

'You monster.'

He shrugged. 'Grayson tried making me. I didn't see the point in wasting time watching inaccurate movies about space when that time could be spent doing something more useful.'

'You monster.'

He didn't reply, instead choosing to glance down at the bustling market, contemplating something. Stephanie couldn't guess what though because his eyes were covered by black goggles. The rest of him was clad in black too and unlike his previous suits, this one lacked in color completely. It was a blank suit, one without any symbols and affiliations. He'd cut himself off.

Stephanie broke the silence (she loathed silence). 'I guess I'll just have to remedy your complete ignorance of the Jedi ways.'

'Grayson was unsuccessful, what makes you think you'll manage it, fatgirl?'

God, she forgot how annoying he was.

'Why, I'll use my endless charm, you prick,' she leaned forward, putting on her most winning smile. 'You couldn't say no to that.'

'What makes you think I'll be here long enough for you to try that?'

That hit Stephanie like a brick. It had occurred to her, of course, that he might not have intended to stay, but hearing him say it was... was... what exactly? Upsetting?

She opened her mouth to retort but not so distant screaming cut her off.

They were off within a second. Gliding and leaping and tumbling over rooftops towards where the sound had originated from. Stephanie felt the blood in her veins flow faster, the standard rush of crime fighting.

The scene they arrived at made bile rise in Stephanie's throat. A group of men, five or six, surrounded two women. The one screaming was being held by two of the men, while the third was in the process of pulling off her clothes. The second woman was already lying on the floor, a small pool of blood around her head.

Before she'd even glimpsed at Damian's expression, Stephanie knew what was about to happen. In the span of about two seconds, Damian was on the ground, his boots connecting to the men's faces in ways that Stephanie just _knew _would take a long, long while to heal. The way he was striking ensured broken bones and bleeding organs. The men passed out one by one, until there was one man left. Damian grabbed him and pulled out a blade, pointing it at his chest, below the sternum.

'You'll think twice about trying that again,' Damian growled.

Instead of begging for mercy like any normal person, the thug made the mistake of spitting in Damian's face. Damian pulled back the blade, fully prepared to push it through, but Stephanie had reached him and she threw her weight into pulling back his arm as hard as she could. The combination of her yelling and pulling must have finally gotten to Damian because he turned to look at her.

'Don't do it. They're not worth it.'

'With the vile things they're doing, I strongly disagree,' he growled.

Stephanie gripped his arm tighter and gave him a look, one she hoped would would convey the plead in her eyes. 'Not worth it. Not them.'

He seemed to mull something over, and something she did must have clicked because his eyes cleared. He slammed the man hard against the wall, and the thug slid down to the floor. Stephanie let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The police sirens wailed in the distance, brought on by the automatic 911 call that was placed when any of the bats requested with a button attached to their belts, which Stephanie had. Stephanie bandaged the girl, the one who was still alive, tried soothing her to the best of her abilities, and told her to wait until the cops arrived.

Once the cop cars had rounded the corner, the pair scaled the building back to the top. Stephanie remained quiet as she leaped over the rooftops, a few buildings away. Damian followed her. Once she was sure they were safe distance away, she whirled on him and shoved him with all her might. He had obviously been expecting it because he did not move an inch, his stance solid.

'What the fuck, Damian?'

'No names in the field,' he asserted.

'Oh, so that's a rule you're willing to uphold but not the very clear _no killing _rule?'

'No one was killed,' he said, voice even.

Stephanie groaned in frustration at his lack of empathy. 'If our objective was to hurt people, don't you think we'd be villains instead of heroes? The point of us, this,' she pointed to the bat symbol on her chest, 'Is to bring people to justice. To let them be dealt with fairly by the law.'

Damian sneered. 'Do you think people like them deserve to be dealt with _fairly?'_

Stephanie scoffed. 'You know, for someone who dislikes the Hood so much, you sure sound a lot like him.' Before Damian had a chance to reply, she cut him off. 'If you have even an ounce of respect left for your father, you'll stop trying to deform people.'

Damian's eyes narrowed. 'Don't talk to me about the rules of my father, _Spoiler._ Not when you didn't abide by so many of them.'

Stephanie closed her eyes in an attempt to hold back everything she wanted to dish at him. She was bound to say something she would regret. Especially because he had a point. Hypocrite was her middle name. She changed the subject.

'What was that comment before, about not staying?'

'Exactly what it sounded like.'

'So you're not staying?'

'Perhaps. Perhaps I will. I don't owe you an explanation.'

'Maybe not,' Stephanie conceded, stepping closer and poking a finger into his very hard chest. 'But I like consistency.'

He glowered down at her. Like way down. She was aware that he'd gotten tall but it seemed like he was a giant now. He was at least a head taller than her and a whole lot broader and in that moment, as he purposely leaned down even further, his eyes dark, she felt intimidated. It occurred to her how easy it would be for him to crush her, if he wanted. There was a time when she would have thought he was capable of hurting her, too. Now, she realized that despite his returning to his assassin baby ways, she trusted him implicitly. So when he replied with a more than a little hostility, she stood her ground.

'And _I_ like it when I'm not given orders by insipid cows.'

'Well guess what, mister? You're getting them. Everyone else might have stood for your bratty _shit_ but I'm putting my foot down. So when someone you're working with and someone you expect to have your back asks you a valid question, you should answer. Politely.'

The radio halted their conversation this time; an alert for a robbery.

Stephanie wanted to kick something as Damian got to avoid the question once again as they raced to the crime scene.

The rest of the night passed in the same relative pattern. They dealt with the thugs terrorizing the good (and not so good) people of Gotham with broken pieces of sarcastic and infuriating conversation scattered in between. The topic of him leaving wasn't brought up again.

It was four o'clock in the morning before Stephanie's body started screaming for her to stop. Damian, of course, wanted to keep going.

'Fine, keep going, fight your way to death. See if I care. I am, however, taking the car.'

That got him to stop. Daddy's precious car. Stephanie rolled her eyes and got in the passenger seat as Damian grudgingly got in the driver's seat and started back to the manor. He was a pretty solid driver, even though the speeds he drove at were always a little high.

Halfway back, Damian looked up at her. 'Why didn't we have a link to Oracle tonight?'

'She isn't feeling so swell.'

'What's wrong with her?'

'Nothing _wrong_ exactly. I'll let Dick tell you.'

'Why?'

'Like I said, D. You've been gone a while.'

Xxx

When the next morning he was still there, Stephanie felt herself relax.

That was also when she noticed how odd it was that she was this worried over him, had been since his return. The two of them had always antagonized each other and she was never _that _close with him. Yet, they had shared a connection of sorts, an understanding. And she felt like… like she needed to worry over him, like he was, at least partly, her responsibility or something. Which was stupid because he, quite possibly, did not give two shits about her.

After grabbing a quick breakfast of fruit salad from the fridge (yes, occasionally, she liked to eat healthy), she headed down to start her training for the day. She had a lot on her plate today and she almost regretted sleeping in, but it was a Sunday and she was morally opposed to waking up early on freaking Sunday.

Damian, on the other hand, had obviously gotten up early because A: he was Damian, heir to the demon and what not so duh he had a strict regimen instilled into him, and B: he had to have been training for a while to get that sweaty.

Damian trained shirtless, apparently.

She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Dick did the same thing, after all. That didn't stop her coffee from going down the wrong pipe though, or the blood rushing to _entirely _inappropriate places.

He noticed her presence and stopped his beating the shit out of the punching bag.

Never one to avoid speaking her mind, she raised an eyebrow. 'Can I get a membership to whatever gym you went to in the past year? Because damn, D, ' She gestured to the lean muscle decorating his tall frame.

'Are you prone to expounding whatever idea flits through your mind, Brown?' he said. She noticed the subtle red in his cheeks that his copper skin tone allowed as he pulled on a shirt.

'What? As if you weren't aware of your perfect genes.'

He stared at her for a moment with his head tilted; his studying something intrinsically face. He must have realized that he'd stared too long because he broke eye contact abruptly and stepped back. Stephanie kicked off her shoes, took his place on the training mat and after a few stretches, she started on the practice dummy. She felt him watching her as she landed kicks and punches and different kinds of blows on the dummy. She'd always been self-conscious and being under the scrutiny of someone else did not improve her performance. She wondered how long it would take before he-

'Your stance isn't grounded enough.'

_There_ it was. 'I've been doing just fine with how I fight, thank you very much.'

'Tt. Thoroughly explains why your body looks like it's been towed through the Inferno.'

Holding back a wince, she continued her battering of the lifeless human replica. She had no reply to his insult because honestly? He was right. Her body was a map of bruises and cuts and stitches. Usually, she was proud of that. When he didn't pull his gaze away, she sucked in a breath and turned to him again. 'Fine. Show me how then.'

She half expected him to scoff and leave her hanging, but he slowly walked up behind her and holding one of her legs gently, pulled it back so that she was closer to the ground. He also grasped her shoulders, touch light as a feather, and straightened them into proper position.

'Your fighting technique resembles a bull charging blindly, so it's best to use it to your advantage. Throw your whole body into the fight.'

'Oh that's sure to do a number on them,' Stephanie snorted. 'My whale body is awesome for crushing people.'

A tiny frown appeared on his lips and he tilted his head again. 'Your body hardly resembles a whale, Brown. It's a perfectly normal size for a healthy woman of your age.'

Only Damian Wayne, Stephanie figured, could insult her appearance and then give her a backhanded compliment within the span of about three minutes.

'Thanks, I guess,' she said, to which Damian looked away and waved her off. 'And I'm not that old, you prick.'

She kicked his leg. His reflexes were quick though, and he caught it, pulling and making her fall on her back. She used her newly acquired advice as she flipped back up and elbowed him in the rib, using her momentum to make him fall back with her on top of him. She could feel the heat of his skin through her workout clothes.

That lasted for about a second as he flipped them around and the next few minutes passed in a blur as kicks and punches were exchanged in painful places. He didn't hold back when it came to training. When Damian was ten years old and way tinier, he used to be a really difficult opponent to beat. Now, seven years and many, many extra pounds of muscle later, it was almost impossible. It wasn't that she was bad, he was just better. What she did have was determination, and if not for their interruption, she was sure they both would have kept going until they collapsed.

'Not bad, kiddies.'

Stephanie and Damian pulled apart from their violent dance to find Dick Grayson standing there, smile on his face.

For a moment, there was stillness as they all waited for the other's reaction. The loudest noise in the room was their ragged breathing. Then, much to everyone's surprise, Dick socked Damian in the jaw. Damian took it, quietly.

'What the hell, man? You were gone for a whole fucking year!' Dick's tone was confused. Like he didn't know whether he should be pissed beyond belief or happy out of his mind. Both might have been appropriate responses.

'And you were Batman in that time,' Damian muttered with more than a hint of bitterness.

Dick shrugged. 'Someone had to do it. A Gotham without a Batman is not something anyone needs. And you didn't stay to pick up the pieces so.'

Damian had the decency to look ashamed. Dick was probably the only one who could manage to elicit this response from the stubborn man-child. 'There were things I needed to do.'

Dick spread out his hands. 'What and you think that none of us would understand if you'd just told us that? That none of us would help?'

'This was something I needed to do on my own.'

Dick sighed, deep and world weary, one hand running over his face. 'We were all mourning, Damian. You weren't the only one. You didn't have to do it alo-'

Indifference poured from his voice when Damian spoke._ 'That's _not what it was about.'

'What then?' Dick spread his hands out in question. He scoffed. 'Damian we thought you were _dead_.'

Damian didn't reply. Dick ran his hands over his face again. Then, in something that was much more in character for Dick, he pulled Damian into a hug. Damian's hands twitched, like he wanted to return the gesture. But he didn't, and his arms remained by his side. He let the moment hang for a few moments before ducking out of the hug. And for anyone else who didn't know Damian, it might have seemed like Damian's stoic expression meant that he truly didn't care, but Stephanie had spent time with him, however reluctantly, and she knew him, and so she could see that it had affected him.

Grim determination quickly overtook his features as he folded his arms, head held up. It was his submit or die stance. So Stephanie knew that whatever was coming out of his mouth next was going to be something big. 'I was trained my whole life, Grayson, to take on the Bat mantle once father was gone. The suit is rightfully mine. Hand it over.'

Dick, to his credit, didn't look surprised. 'No.'

'No?' Damian repeated, voice low and menacing in a way only Bruce's had been.

Dick nodded. 'You're not ready.'

'I can't be less effective than you,' Damian spat. 'Gotham's degenerated even further since you've started.'

'You're right,' Dick breathed. 'But that doesn't change my answer.'

Damian's eyes flashed. 'You have no right, Garyson._ I'm_ the blood son, the heir.'

Dick shrugged. 'Perhaps. But I'm oldest and little Wayne, right now, I get to decide when you're ready.'

That's when Stephanie knew that if this continued, the rage simmering under Damian's eyes was going to boil over and this conversation was going to end in a very not nice way. So Stephanie broke her fly on the wall silence and stepped towards Damian, nudging his arm. His gaze turned on her and for a second, she was sure that she was going to be the one on the receiving end of that wrath. But she held his gaze and the plead in her eyes must have reached him, she thought, because the vein in his neck that was about to pop eventually relaxed.

'You would know best, _brother_,' Damian said. He pivoted and left. Which, honestly surprised Stephanie. Damian had actually let go of what he had demanded and left. Very, very un-Damian like. He very rarely backed out of demanding what he wanted until he got it.

Stephanie rubbed her arm, feeling somewhat awkward at having witnessed the conversation. It was times like those she felt like she really didn't belong amongst the angst-y family of bats bound together by bat-daddy issues. Not that she didn't have daddy issues; her subscription just came with a different dad.

Dick released another sigh. Those had become more frequent as of late; like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. The price of being Batman. Stephanie had never seen Dick Grayson more worn out.

He turned to her, putting on a weary smile. 'I almost missed that condescending tone of his.'

Stephanie snorted. 'You're the only one.' She followed him to the monitor where he started pulling out some files. 'How was the mission?'

'Fine. It went fine. But I was distracted, a lot, on account of Babs, so it didn't go as well as it could have.'

'And how is Babs? I haven't talked to her in three days. Every time I call she's asleep or crying over some movie or the other, usually with her mouth full of cake.'

Dick laughed, some light returning to his eyes. 'She's good. Says the kicking's gotten stronger. I think I can just imagine the next ten years now: sleepless nights and a hell of a lot of broken things in the house.'

Stephanie grinned. 'I can't wait.'

Silence resumed as Dick updated some files, the light of the monitor accentuating the dark circles hanging under his eyes. She thought about leaving him to his work, but he spoke up as she was turning to leave.

'Has he killed?'

'Not that I know of. Not yet. Why?'

Dick swiveled the chair towards her. 'When he first came, he was… lost. And dark. Murderous. It was all he knew. It took us a while, but we managed to make him see that that wasn't all he could be. But what I saw just now? He's like the boy that arrived eight years ago, the one who beat Tim within an inch of his life, all over again.'

Stephanie nodded. 'Yeah. I know'

What Dick asked next surprised Stephanie. 'Will you take care of him?'

Stephanie's laugh was devoid of any humor. 'What could possibly make you think I could take care of overgrown Damian when I couldn't even take care of ten year old him?'

'Because he likes you best after me. And right now, he doesn't seem prepared to listen to me.'

'Are you out of your mind? Damian does _not _like me. He antagonizes me.'

'Yes,' Dick said. 'He does like you. Do you honestly think he would have listened to a word you ever said, ever, otherwise?'

Stephanie thought that maybe, there was a truth to those words. Damian was not the type to listen to anyone he did not deem worthy. Huh.

Dick had never looked older as his eyes locked onto Stephanie's, a plead in his eyes. 'Please, Steph. Promise me you will. Because right now, there sure as hell isn't anyone else. He needs someone to guide him, or he'll return to his default setting.'

Stephanie pursed her lips. If she agreed to this, the rest of her life might be hell, but there was no way she wasn't going to ascent. Damian was a bat, after all. And if he was a bat and she was a bat, that sort of made them each other's responsibility.

'Yeah, I will. Don't worry, big D. I'll have the youngling on a leash.'

Dick smiled. 'Thanks, Steph.'

She hoped that by the end of this her urge to live overshadowed her urge to kill herself that would no doubt arise after spending so much time with the brat.

She had no idea, of course, exactly what was in store for her.

**A/N: **Oh pretty please, won't you review? It gives me the will to keep writing.


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